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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24386665">A Spark, Alight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberburns/pseuds/octoberburns'>octoberburns</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Almèreva Revolution [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Fantasy, Hook-Up, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Overstimulation, Sex Club, Size Difference, Size Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:21:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24386665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberburns/pseuds/octoberburns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some moth clubs are taverns, cafés, social parlours—places where Almèreva's sexual deviants can come together not just to flirt, but also to build community. The Lamplighters' Inn is not one of those, unless a cock in your ass counts as "community," which Micola is certainly prepared to accept an argument for.</p><p>It is also where they first meet Baldasera Sanuto.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Almèreva Revolution [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Spark, Alight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This took <em>forever</em> but it's finally done!! This is a side story and an expansion on one of the flashback scenes from As Moths in the Flame, exploring (in thoroughly explicit detail) the first meeting between Micola and Baldasera. It's nearly six thousand words of porn and I have nothing to say for myself. I have no shame and I offer no excuses.</p><p>My eternal thanks, as ever, to Alex, Ashley, Marlon, and the rest of my supporters. Hope you like your filthy smut, you animals.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Micola ever saw Baldasera Sanuto was at the Lamplighters’ Inn.</p><p>They and some fellow regulars had claimed a couch in the Silk Parlour, at the front of the club, where they had a good view of all the comings and goings—as it were. It had been a moderate time already since their arrival: long enough to have gotten comfortable, but not so long that Micola had yet decided how they intended to spend their night, or with whom.</p><p>And then Baldasera walked in, though at the time they didn’t yet know his name, and quite abruptly they found that they had made up their mind.</p><p>“Now, would you look at that,” they said.</p><p>Domenico, on the couch beside them, was occupied with teasing Andrea about the location of his already-missing doublet. The dwarf hadn’t been paying attention to the door, but at Micola’s tone he swung around with interest. “Who are we looking at?” he said.</p><p>“The ogre,” Micola said. They hadn’t yet taken their eyes off the man, who had crossed the room at a relaxed pace to take one of the heavy armchairs near the fireplace. “The big one, with the spectacles and the blue shawl.”</p><p>Domenico scanned the room briefly, letting out a low whistle when he spotted the focus of Micola’s gaze. “‘Big’ is right,” he said. “Look at the size of those shoulders.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Micola said, in vague acknowledgement. They had dragged their eyes over the man’s shoulders already, down his broad chest and heavy stomach, to the thick thighs easily filling the seat of even an ogre-sized chair. Micola was reasonably tall for an elf, but it was a long-limbed and lanky height; there was no part of the stranger’s body that wasn’t at least twice or thrice their size.</p><p>“Oh, I know that look,” said Simoneto from his perch on the arm of the couch. Andrea’s head was resting against his leg; Simoneto had been playing idly with his hair for the past fifteen minutes. “That’s Micola’s ‘thank you for the lovely conversation, goodbye, you’re not going to see me for the rest of the night’ face.”</p><p>At last Micola tore their gaze away from the ogre to shoot Simoneto a superior look through their lenses. “And so what if it is?” they said. They swung their legs off Domenico’s lap, getting to their feet and ostentatiously brushing down the front of their unbuttoned doublet. “Your cock is lovely, Simoneto, but you certainly don’t need me to suck it for you.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure someone else can manage that,” Andrea drawled, as Simoneto laughed.</p><p>Domenico winked and jerked his chin at the ogre. “Don’t break your jaw,” he said.</p><p>“Please,” Micola said. “Have a little faith.”</p><p>They left their friends to their amusements and crossed the room, taking a moment to admire the ogre again as they did. He had a thick head of dark curls, falling to just below his ears; behind his spectacles—ordinary eyeglasses, not the tinted lenses of a mage—his eyes were a warm deep brown. His tusks were strong against a soft mouth that looked accustomed to smiling, his nose and cheekbones as broad as the rest of his features, his face olive brown and still burnished from the sun of the now-fading summer. He was dressed in a linen shirt and a sleeveless fawn jerkin, with the soft cotton shawl most ogres wore knotted loosely about his shoulders. The fabrics of his clothing were plain and sturdy, but his tailoring was very fine; his trousers were so perfectly fitted that it was a struggle, when Micola stopped beside his chair, to drag their eyes back up to his face.</p><p>He hadn’t yet noticed them, his focus on the elf and dwarf in a nearby armchair who were about three undone buttons from giving everyone a free show. Micola got his attention with a light touch to his knee. “Excuse me, darling,” they said, “is this seat taken?”</p><p>They did not miss the gratifying way his eyes widened when he turned his gaze on them. Not for the first time they thanked the rebellious whim that had led them to buy the lip stain and rouge they were currently wearing.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” he said, after a breathless moment. “What seat did you—”</p><p>Micola shifted their weight and slid directly into his lap.</p><p>“Ah,” he said, his expression somewhere between stunned and aroused. “That seat.”</p><p>They leaned into him, spreading one hand against the swell of his chest. “I’m Micola,” they said. “What’s your name?” It hardly mattered what he told them, so long as they had something to call him by; certainly plenty of people used unobtrusive aliases at the moth clubs. <em>Micola</em> was a woman’s name, and self-evidently not the one their parents had given them—though it was by no means a false name either. It was understood that one ought not comment on that sort of thing, though one couldn’t always count on the politeness of strangers.</p><p>They were gratified to see the flicker of understanding in his eyes; all he said in reply was, “My name is Baldasera.”</p><p>“Baldasera,” they repeated, purely for the pleasure of watching his face as they rolled his name off their tongue like a dirty secret. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, wouldn’t you say? Would you mind terribly if I called you Sera? I wouldn’t want to lose track in the heat of the moment.”</p><p>His gaze had sharpened palpably from the moment they said the word <em>mouthful</em>, and now he settled his palm at the small of their back. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said. “You can call me anything you like.”</p><p>Even with them seated on his lap, he was still taller than them. His hand nearly spanned the width of their back. His voice was a resonant bass that they could feel like a shiver of heat in the bones of their sternum. He must have a lovely singing voice, they thought. I wonder how he’ll sound with his cock in my ass.</p><p>“<em>Darling</em>,” they said, just because they could, “you’re very handsome, you know.”</p><p>A smile tugged at his lips, and he ran his knuckles along the line of their leg, pulling them closer. “I did rather guess that you thought so.”</p><p>Micola hummed contentedly, winding their arms around his shoulders. “Did you have any particular designs on the night?”</p><p>Baldasera’s answering laugh was soft. His hands tightened fractionally on their body. “To be honest, I was just hoping for a blowjob and some company,” he said.</p><p>“Well, if you’d rather stick to your original plan, I can hardly fault you for that,” Micola said. They could have drawn back, made it playful or coy; they didn’t. They kept their eyes on his, their mouths scant inches apart. “But to tell the truth, darling, I would pay a pretty price to have you to myself for an hour or two.”</p><p>Baldasera’s breath stuttered. “Oh,” he said.</p><p>“So, is that a yes?” they said, with the wicked curve of a smile.</p><p>“Absolutely,” he said, in the fervent tones of one who couldn’t believe how stupid he’d have to be to say anything else.</p><p>Micola paid for the room.</p><p>Up three flights of stairs, in a small bare chamber with nothing but an ogre-sized bed, a sturdy chair, and a rickety little nightstand, they locked the door behind them and turned to press their back against it, and said with a sultry smile, “You should kiss me.”</p><p>Baldasera had seemed on edge as they’d made their way up to the room, but now he didn’t hesitate. Before Micola could so much as blink his body was covering theirs, overwhelming in the breadth and weight of it, his hands on their thighs hauling them up against him to crush his lips against theirs. They let out a startled little moan and threw their arms around his neck, opening their mouth to him, the press of his tusks against their jaw deliciously unfamiliar. They had slept with ogres before, but it would never stop thrilling them. He had lifted them so effortlessly, was taking their weight like it was nothing—didn’t even have to adjust his grip on their legs as he kissed them breathless.</p><p>They were panting when he broke away, their fingers flexing restlessly on his massive shoulders and tugging at the fabric of his shawl. He pressed his face into their throat, the frames of his spectacles and the points of his tusks scraping along their skin as he dragged kisses down their neck. “You’re <em>so</em> beautiful,” he said, his voice rough with desire.</p><p>They laughed, helpless and wanting. He was still holding them up, his fingers digging into their thighs as he nipped his way down their throat. “I deserve to be appreciated properly,” they agreed.</p><p>“Anything,” he said.</p><p>Something hot shuddered through them at the raw assent in his voice. “Sweet-talker,” they said. “Let’s go to the bed, darling.”</p><p>They knew it was coming, but it still made their stomach flip when he simply wrapped his arms around them and carried them there. He set them down at the edge of the bed and went to one knee—his head still nearly level with theirs, fuck, fuck—and began stripping their clothing from them. His fingers were almost fumbling in their haste, but no less reverential for it, and it was that more than anything else that sent arousal spiralling through Micola’s body.</p><p>He bared them entirely—setting their lenses on the nightstand, removing their shoes, sliding their hose from their hips with a bitten-back sound as he revealed their cock flushed and already half-hard against their thigh. Micola laughed again, but it was a shaky, heated thing. Delicately they lifted the spectacles from his face in turn and leaned in to kiss him, dragging their hands down his chest, their clever fingers working the knot from his shawl and tugging his jerkin buttons free and undoing the lacing at the front of his shirt. He shrugged off his outwear and broke away to pull his shirt over his head, then surged in to kiss them again, pushing them back down onto the bed and climbing over them, his trousers riding low on his hips.</p><p>“Fuck,” they gasped, breathless with want and with the way his chest was pressing down on theirs. It wasn’t his full weight, couldn’t be anywhere near it, and that just made it hotter—that even restraining himself so carefully he could still hold them down with scarcely an effort. Almost without meaning to they brought their hands up, gripping his biceps with desperate fingers. “Penitent’s tears, Sera, you’re so big.”</p><p>A shiver ran through him at that, and then he smiled, slow and easy and just the slightest bit smug. “You love that, don’t you?” he said. “That I could just pick you up and move you where I want you.”</p><p>Involuntarily Micola’s hands tightened on his arms. “Darling,” they said, “you have <em>no</em> idea.”</p><p>Baldasera laughed, a low rumble that they could <em>feel</em> where his body was pressed to theirs, and then he caught their wrist in one hand and pinned it down against the bed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.” And then before Micola could do anything more than suck in a dazed breath he was kissing them again, his mouth hot and demanding on theirs, his entire body bearing down on them as they arched up eagerly into him, the nails of their free hand scraping against his shoulder and clutching him frantically closer.</p><p>They were both breathing hard when he pulled away this time, and it was all Micola could do not to bury their hand in his curls and yank him back down. He was still pinning them—still carefully keeping them from being crushed by his full weight, they noted with a brief edge of near-delirium—and they could feel his cock swelling to fullness against their legs. “Fuck,” they repeated. “Sera, please—I want to suck you off, darling, let me—”</p><p>He cut them off with a kiss, hard but brief. “Yes,” he said, and <em>oh</em>, he sounded just as wild with desire as they were. “Please. Fuck. Yes.”</p><p>He let them up, making their head spin with the abrupt inrush of air. Micola scrambled to their knees, kissing him again, again, again as they urged him with restless hands to the head of the bed. The placket of his trousers was already untied, and they pulled the laces free and tugged it open to reveal his cock, curling their fist around it and entirely failing to stop themself making a noise that was frankly embarrassing.</p><p>Their hands were not small; their fingers, in particular, were long of proportion. And still they could barely close their grip around him.</p><p>Baldasera chuckled, low and breathless. “Having second thoughts?”</p><p>They looked up to him. His eyes were fixed on their face—on their lips—and his hands were twisting in the sheets at his hips. They allowed themself a smile. “Not for a <em>moment</em>,” they said, and bent their head to his dick.</p><p>Micola was an accomplished cocksucker. They managed to take him nearly halfway before the choking sensation of too-much overwhelmed them and they had to jerk back with a gasp. Determinedly they went back down, again and again, wrapping their hands around the base and stroking in time with their movements, testing and pushing and straining at their limits.</p><p>“Oh—oh, fuck, Micola, your mouth—”</p><p>They dragged their eyes open to focus on his face, slowly sinking down on him again and pulling a moan from his throat. He lifted a hand to cup their cheek, rubbing his thumb along their lower lip where it was stretched obscenely around his cock. His eyes were glazed, his breath coming in gasps, his hips twitching under their hands; he couldn’t seem to look away. Micola had been wearing lip stain when the night began; it was anyone’s guess how much of it remained on their mouth, but if the way Baldasera was looking at them was any indication they’d have been willing to bet it hadn’t all rubbed off yet.</p><p>They couldn’t smirk with their mouth full of dick, but from the way he groaned and let his head fall back they rather thought he’d got the gist regardless.</p><p>“Shit,” he said. “You’re so good—don’t stop, please, <em>fuck</em>.”</p><p>They pulled up, sucking and mouthing at the tip of his cock. “So polite,” they said, laughter in their voice. “You don’t have to be so courteous, darling. Go on, get your hands in my hair, let go a little. I can take it.”</p><p>Baldasera bit back a shaky sound and ran his fingers through their hair. “Oh, you are dangerous,” he said.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Micola agreed, and swallowed him down again.</p><p>It was immediately apparent how he’d been holding back. He practically bucked into it, his hand tightening on their hair until it pulled; they moaned around him, wholly without meaning to, and pushed themself down even further. They could barely breathe, could barely even think, but he was shaking and jerking under their mouth and his voice was just as lovely as they’d imagined. Oh, but their throat was going to be <em>ruined</em> tomorrow—</p><p>“Micola—fuck,” he choked out. “If you keep going I’m going to—”</p><p>They pulled off again, but didn’t slow the stroke of their hand on him. His cock was slick with precome and saliva; he seemed ready to shake apart at any moment. “Can you come more than once, darling?” they said, breathy, and began mouthing their way down his length.</p><p>“Sometimes,” he said, seeming to take a moment to find his voice. His fingers dragged through their hair again, then down to touch their jaw; Micola put their mouth on him in a sucking kiss and looked up through their lashes, meeting his eyes. The breath shuddered out of him. “Probably,” he said in a rush, and then: “Penitent’s tears. <em>Yes</em>.”</p><p>“Good,” Micola purred, “because I would really love for you to come in my mouth.”</p><p>Baldasera just made a wrecked noise and buried his hand in their hair again, and with a smug smile Micola wrapped their lips around him and went down once more. He was nearly trembling with it, so close and so desperate that he was losing control, the restless tug of his fingers almost enough to make them choke. A bolt of lust shocked through them at that, making their dick throb, and, fuck, they needed to make him come <em>now</em>, needed to know how he would feel, would taste—</p><p>The clutch of his hand was the only warning they had. Baldasera made a sound like it had been torn from him and spilled himself in hot pulses down their throat, on their tongue, in spurts across their lips and face as they jolted back, breathing hard and urgently aroused. Micola swallowed, sucked their lips clean, looked up at him properly through a haze of desire, and Baldasera let out a low groan and closed his eyes momentarily, letting out a heavy exhale.</p><p>“Penitent’s holy Name,” he said. “You’re incredible. Fuck. Come here.”</p><p>They were eager to comply. They crawled up over him, straddling his hips and biting down a whine at the press of their cock against his belly. Baldasera unclenched his hand from its tight grip on the bedclothes and settled it against the small of their back. The other he stroked down over their cheeks, wiping off the come that had smeared there; when he would have pulled away to rub it dry on the sheets, Micola instead turned their face to draw his thumb into their mouth, sucking it clean.</p><p>“Oh,” he said faintly, and tugged them into a kiss.</p><p>They were shifting restlessly against him by the time he let them go, their dick so hard it was nearly aching. He shifted his grip, sliding his hand down their spine to squeeze their ass, and trailed his fingers along their body from their mouth to wrap around them. Micola almost whimpered at that, at the size of his hand, the way it engulfed them utterly, but even as they thrust into his fist they said, ”Don’t—don’t get me too close, darling—I want to come with your cock in my ass.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Baldasera said fervently, and pushed himself forward to kiss them again. He gentled his grip. “You’ll need to get me hard again.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Micola said, shifting their hips again. The new position he had settled in gave them the perfect angle to grind down on his dick, softened but very much still interested. “I think I can manage that.”</p><p>He laughed roughly, his fingers tightening on their thigh; then he caught their hand, guiding it to their cock. “You do it,” he said. “Let me look at you.”</p><p>Micola flashed him a smirk, even as they closed their fingers around themself and bit down a whine. “I can put on a pretty show.”</p><p>Baldasera’s eyes were intent on them, his look hungry, his face flushed and touched with sweat that was making his curls stick at his neck and temples. “I know you can,” he said. “Come on, beautiful, I want to fuck you so bad.”</p><p>Micola shivered at that and stroked themself, slow and casual and burning through them all the same, every sensation intensified under that hot gaze. They let their other hand settle against his shoulder, wander down his broad chest—gripped at the fat and muscle there and rolled his nipple between their fingers as they rocked against him, languid and easy despite the tension thrumming through them. He groaned low in his throat and dug his hands into their legs; they could feel the twitch of his cock where it was pressed against their ass.</p><p>“Fuck, that’s it,” he said. He tugged them closer, restless and wanting, bending his great bulk to press sucking kisses to their shoulder. “Just like that, Micola, you’re perfect.”</p><p>A ragged exhale shuddered from their throat despite themself. His whole torso was pressed against them, trapping their hand against their cock—the swell of his chest and stomach dwarfing their body, his arms so big and solid around them that they felt near-immovable, his heavy thighs under theirs broad enough to force their legs apart without the slightest effort. “Sera—oh, Penitent’s tears, you’re so fucking hot.”</p><p>“I want you,” he said against their collar, rough-voiced and heated. Micola rather thought he had bruised them, and nearly whimpered with the realization. They ground down hard on his dick, and he rewarded them with another biting kiss, his tusks pressing into their skin so firmly they might well have left bruises of their own. “Fuck, Micola, I knew you could work me up again—”</p><p>“You should fuck my thighs,” Micola said, apparently without any conscious input from their mind. “Let me get you properly hard—”</p><p>“Shit. Yes,” he said, and then he was lifting them up, turning them over to lay them out on their back, pressing down over them for a dizzyingly long kiss before he sat back, kneeling against their hips. His cock was partway hard, heavy against the soft skin of their inner thigh; he was still half-wearing his trousers. “You have oil? I didn’t bring any.”</p><p>“The pouch on my belt,” they said. They weren’t sure where their belt had ended up—he’d dropped it on the floor somewhere, hadn’t he?—but they could certainly recall that they’d come here tonight prepared to get fucked in the ass.</p><p>Baldasera squeezed their leg once, a reassurance and a promise, then got to his feet to locate their abandoned belt. Micola took the moment of respite to get their breathing under control, an endeavour made all the more difficult by Baldasera casually shucking his trousers to properly expose his thick ass and broad legs for the first time all evening. He bent to where he had left their clothes—and <em>oh</em>, wasn’t that a sight—and fumbled for a moment with their belt pouch, then returned to the bed. Their little bottle of oil looked absurdly small in his palm.</p><p>He tugged the cork from the top with a delicate twist, drizzling some over his fingers and capping it again before he took himself in hand. Micola almost moaned at the look on his face, the way his eyes slid closed momentarily, the slick glide of his hand over fevered olive skin. They were so hard, had been keeping themself on edge for so long already, and he was magnificent over them, and it was all they could do not to just wrap their fist around their cock and come right here and now—</p><p>Baldasera gripped their hips and tugged them in, one hand dry and the other soft with oil; settled his stiffening cock between their legs and gathered their calves together one-handed, easily keeping a grip about them both; bent Micola nearly in half as he pressed forward and fucked into the space between their thighs. They gasped and curved into him, squeezing their legs together—fuck, he was so thick they had to work at it, so big that the fat flushed head of his cock was fully exposed on the near side of their thighs—his every thrust was jarring through their whole body, jostling their cock and balls as he increased his pace, dragging smooth and filthy against their hole, and all they could think was how good it was going to feel when he was finally inside them.</p><p>He groaned, turning his head against their calf, pressing a bruising kiss to the line of muscle there. “Say that again,” he said, and only then did Micola realize their mouth had run away on them.</p><p>“Fuck, Sera,” they moaned. “You’re going to feel so good inside me—I love your cock, you’re so fucking big, I just want to feel you filling me up—” They flexed around him, making him swear and thrust all the harder, and they let out a shivery laugh and arched their back, stretching out temptingly underneath him. “Penitent’s holy Name, I want you so much—I’m going to come as soon as you get your dick in me—”</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah. Shit,” he said, breathless and desperate. “I should open you up—get you ready for me—”</p><p>It was shameful how easily that pulled a needy sound from them. “<em>Please</em>.”</p><p>Baldasera fumbled in the blankets for the bottle of oil, pouring it liberally over his hand. He withdrew from Micola’s thighs, biting back a groan and spreading their legs wide; the heavy press of his palm almost made them whine. And then he was rubbing against their hole, pressing his first finger slowly inside them, slick and easy and sleek with oil—and they really did whine, writhing in his grip, desperate to grind down against him. He kept them still, barely working for it, with nothing but his finger inside them and his hold on their leg.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” they said. “Your <em>hands</em>—”</p><p>“You love that so much,” he breathed. He didn’t sound teasing; he sounded awed.</p><p>Micola laughed, edged with a desperation that was nearly hysteria. “Penitent’s tears, Sera, your fingers are bigger than some dicks I’ve taken.”</p><p>His grip tightened convulsively on their thigh, and then he was bending over them, kissing them fiercely, pumping his hand into them without a moment’s pause. Micola whimpered, arching up into him, and he dropped his forehead against their shoulder with a groan. “That can’t have been enough for you,” he said, uneven but drawing himself back under control. “You want so much, don’t you? You want more than you can take.” On his next thrust he pressed his second finger in alongside the first, agonizingly slow, easing into them one careful inch at a time.</p><p>“Yes—yes—fuck,” Micola gasped, jolting down against him, clutching desperately at his shoulders. “More, please give me more, I can take it, Sera, fuck—”</p><p>He silenced them with a kiss, simultaneously twisting his fingers inside them in a way that made them shudder beneath him. “I know,” he said against their mouth. “I’ve got you.”</p><p>Micola had been fucked less thoroughly than Baldasera fingered them. He worked them open with a steady implacability every bit as immovable as his arms around their waist or his body over theirs, making them tremble and jerk in his grasp until they felt they were about to fly apart at any moment. He thrust into them until they were taking three fingers, fast and easy, frantically begging for more, and then he withdrew—Micola whined at the loss—and took himself in hand, stroking more oil along his length and lining himself up.</p><p>“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice ragged and low.</p><p>“Not on your life,” Micola returned. “<em>Fuck me</em>, Sera.”</p><p>He didn’t reply—just closed his eyes with a groan and pushed his cock into them.</p><p>It was a lot. Even with how extensively they’d been prepared, Micola had to fight with themself to just relax and take it. They wanted to buck up against him. They wanted to scream. The stretch was unlike anything they had ever felt, so exquisitely balanced between pleasure and pain as to make them utterly inextricable, so overwhelming that it consumed all else, every feeling, every sense, every thought in their head. It was all they could do to remember to breathe. The only true thing in the world was Baldasera’s dick, pressing wholly and inexorably into their body.</p><p>Finally, <em>finally</em>, he bottomed out, seated so deep inside them that they could scarcely believe it was real. He held himself there, trembling with tension, bent down over them and pinning them to the bed with both hands, breathing in gasps against their throat. “Fuck,” he said, his words halfway to a moan. “Fuck, you’re so tight—”</p><p>He shifted his hips, just enough to drag, and abruptly Micola was burning up, the air choking in their throat. “Sera, I swear,” they said, “if you don’t start moving <em>right fucking now</em>—”</p><p>“Fuck,” he said again, and snapped his hips into them.</p><p>Micola couldn’t help it: they cried out, arching up against him, twisting frantically against his grip and his body and his every move. If it had seemed overwhelming when he was entering them, now he was a thousand times more so. They had no respite. He was so big, so deep inside them, filling them up so entirely, that no matter how he moved he was pressing against some sensitive place they had barely known they had, in a perfect endless onslaught that they couldn’t have escaped if they’d wanted to—and they had been on edge for so long, were so desperate and needy, hard and aching and leaking precome all over themself, and he was so much, and so good, and pinning them down so easily with barely the lightest pressure, and they wanted him so bad—</p><p>Orgasm slammed through them with scarcely a second’s warning. They convulsed against him, letting out a voiceless wail as lights went off behind their eyes, and for a long, dizzying moment they forgot how to breathe while they came undone around him.</p><p>“Fuck fuck fuck <em>fuck</em>,” they gasped, when they could speak again. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop, Sera, <em>fuck me</em>—”</p><p>Baldasera, who had slowed his thrusts by what was apparently an extreme strength of will, made a wounded noise and rocked his hips against them, hard and desperate. “Fuck. Micola,” he said. “I can’t believe you—you’re incredible—”</p><p>“Don’t stop,” they said again, a whine in their voice. “Please, darling, please, I want to feel it—”</p><p>“Yeah. Fuck,” he groaned, and picked up his pace.</p><p>It was too much—again, still—overwhelming and glorious and achingly painful against the sensitivity of just having come. Every part of them hurt, and yet he was still pressing them down, taking his pleasure from them, had <em>listened</em> when they told him they could take it—and it was exactly what they had wanted, was utterly, deliriously perfect, and all they could do was arch into him and gasp and whine and beg with their whole body for him to wreck them on him completely.</p><p>“You’re so good,” he said, low and hot against their shoulder, where they were certainly going to have another bruise. “Fuck, Micola, I’m so close—”</p><p>Oh, I would do embarrassing things to get to fuck you again, Micola thought, in a brief moment of incongruous clarity before their train of thought scattered entirely once more.</p><p>The overstimulation had almost become too much when for one abrupt moment Baldasera’s grip tightened to nearly punishing force. His hips stuttered, and he drove himself into them hard, twitching and shuddering deep inside them as he spilled himself with a moan. Micola made a low sound in their throat, lightheaded with arousal, their body jolting in sympathetic response to his. And then a moment later he released their wrists, gathering them in against his chest and collapsing on his side on the bed next to them.</p><p>For a long moment Micola just drifted. Their body was a disconnected collection of singing ache and sheer sensation, overcome to the point where they could no longer distinguish between pleasure and pain—it was all just <em>feeling</em>.</p><p>Gradually they steadied their breathing, letting it fall in synch with Baldasera’s; and then one by one they became aware of the small details of being—of his dick softening and slipping out of them, and the slick mess and pleasant hollowness left behind; of his hand rubbing quiet circles on the small of their back; of the strain in their hips and the bruises on their shoulders and the staggering, unreal hurt of the stretch they had taken. A shivery feeling swept through them at that, and they hid a grin against his chest, helplessly delighted. They were going to be feeling that for <em>days</em>.</p><p>Baldasera made an inquiring noise. “You good?”</p><p>He was still rubbing at their back. His other arm was wrapped around them, pillowing their head and gently bracing their shoulders. Micola rather thought they were going to melt into his hands.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” they sighed, nuzzling into his pectoral without opening their eyes. “Magnificent, actually.”</p><p>“Good. That’s good,” he said. His voice was more vibration than sound; they could feel the smile in it. “You were amazing.”</p><p>They practically purred. “I know, darling.” They wound their arms around his neck. “You were lucky to have me. And you’ll be lucky to have me again.”</p><p>Baldasera laughed, low and fond, and pressed a soft kiss to their temple. “I know.”</p><p>Micola said nothing, just sinking into him. In a moment they would have to get up and clean themself off and find all the disparate pieces of their scattered clothing. They would need to take off their makeup and their earrings, and dress to go downstairs and settle the final bill for the room. And then they would need to go home—in a moment.</p><p>But not just yet. For now, all they needed to do was lie comfortably in the arms of the most attractive man they’d ever met, basking in the afterglow. After all, who could say when they’d next get to do this again? No, Micola thought, stretching out in satisfaction against Baldasera’s body. Best to just enjoy the moment, for as long as it lasted.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm on <a href="http://twitter.com/october_burns">twitter</a>. I have a <a href="https://octoberburns.wordpress.com/">blog</a>. Come chat writing and book recs with me! And if you like my stories, I'd love it if you'd help support my work.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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